I don't know if it's true that the look of Star Trek's Mr Spock, who we mentioned here yesterday, was inspired by a Dublin street character from the 1930s. But if it's not true, it should be.
The Dubliner in question is one of two drinkers depicted in a well-known Harry Kernoff painting, A Bird Never Flew on One Wing, which hung on a wall of O'Brien's pub in Leeson Street for many years. And according to the theory, it was spotted there by a Hollywood designer, who subsequently incorporated the drinker's appearance into the half-human, half-Vulcan Spock.
There is certainly a striking resemblance which could be mere coincidence. But if the painting really did inspire the character, it would mean that Mr Spock’s superior life form was part-based on a much less evolved organism known as The “Toucher” Doyle, the model for the figure portrayed and so named for his skill at borrowing money.
The rumoured link between the picture and Star Trek was mentioned in a 2012 biography of Kernoff by Kevin O'Connor. And it has been part-attributed to a Hollywood set designer, who in turn had heard it on the film lots of Culver City in the 1960s. Beyond that, the trail of evidence evaporates.
Set designer
The evolution of Spock’s appearance is otherwise well documented. After
Gene Roddenberry
conceived the character, details were left to a designer called
Fred Phillips
who had a big struggle to gain acceptance for his vision.
One problem was NBC’s fear that the character looked satanic. In early promotional material, the network went to the trouble of air-brushing the pointy bits off his ears.
Phillips, meanwhile, had a Goldilocks-type dilemma of finding the pair that were just right in shape and size. Many sets were tried and the actor Leonard Nimoy didn't want to wear any. He finally relented on the basis of a promise that, if he still hated them after 12 episodes, they would somehow be written out of the script. The ears must have grown on him, eventually.
Different era
The “Toucher” Doyle, aka Willie Doyle, was a man of his time. We live in a different era, when the concept of touching, especially inappropriate touching, means something very different. Indeed, even the concept of somebody touching you for money has alternative connotations these days. But it had an exclusively pecuniary meaning until about half a century ago, and there were a lot more touchers around Dublin then than Willie Doyle.
It was not to be confused with mere begging. The practised toucher might often be in employment, just temporarily short of funds.
And he (it was usually he) would approach targets in a subtle or roundabout manner, placing the request in the context of long-term friendship, in which roles might soon be reversed.
There was an art involved, as Kernoff himself testified in connection with Doyle, his subject matter more than once. “He touched me for 10 bob while I was painting him,” the painter often recalled, “but it was done with real artistry”.
Soft touch
For smaller amounts, no doubt, approaches could be more direct. The long-time Mayor of Dublin
Alfie Byrne
(himself famously tactile, as witnessed by his nickname “the shaking hand of Dublin”), was a soft touch for touchers and revelled in that role.
In a letter to this page some years ago, a reader recalled his father’s claim to have followed Byrne once on a walk after Sunday mass in the Pro-Cathedral. En route to and from Grafton Street, the mayor was touched by “about 30” people, to each of whom he imparted a shilling.
I have seen The Toucher Doyle referred to both as a "bookie", and as somebody who made a living from backing horses. The vocations are not unrelated. But in any case, it was for a third form of fundraising that he is immortalised. And maybe that's the one he meant when he would tell prospective donors that his "profession" was "very quiet at the moment".
The touching profession died out at some point, at least nominally. The nickname seems to have disappeared with Patrick Kavanagh, who was sometimes derided as the "Monaghan Toucher".
Nowadays, sexual innuendoes apart, that could also be a veiled compliment, since touching people is one of the aims of art. This is what the Los Angeles Times meant when, reporting Leonard Nimoy's death last year, it said he had "touched millions". But by a combined reckoning, if the Kernoff link is true, Wille Doyle may have touched even more.
